


i get broke as the city glows

by swimthewholeriogrande



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 05:26:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16257584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimthewholeriogrande/pseuds/swimthewholeriogrande
Summary: Davey is a world away, and Jack is sorry he's so hard to love.





	i get broke as the city glows

**Author's Note:**

> i love love!  
> title from plans by oh wonder

It was a familiar sensation to have one foot breaking down death's door for a kid who lived on the streets, but one that Jack knew Davey would never understand; Davey could run with the newsies all he wanted - but he had a curfew. He could save and skimp as many pennies as he could - but they went on a new toy solider for Les rather than on food, on survival. He could loosen that tie on his vest as much as it would take to stop getting teased - but it was still there.

Rather than this privilege the other boy possessed making Jack envious, it only gave him relief. It was easier to get through a particularly freezing, bone-brittle night when he knew Davey was somewhere safe. Unfortunately this went the opposite way too, and Davey often told him how he'd find himself awake long past dusk fretting about Jack in the lodging house with too many windows and not enough blankets. Jack was too self-sacrificing for his own good, he always said, and it would get him hurt.

But when Jack would show up at the Jacobs' house with skinned knees and black eyes, a sheepish grin splitting cuts on his lips after he'd fought for one of his boys, Davey would forgo his scolding and take him in. There were often his favourite nights; when he was injured he could come up with excuses to stay, even though Davey told him he was always welcome. Being hurt made it easier for Jack to justify it to himself and he'd spend the night in Davey's bed - at first leaving space in the middle and then, after November 11th 1899, as close as to Davey as he could manage.

November 11th had seemed like a natural, obvious progression in their relationship, so when had Jack brushed his lips against Davey's that night he had barely been nervous. There'd certainly been reason to be - I mean, shit, Jack could go to jail for it - but all he'd thought as Davey began to kiss back was 'at last.' 

It was December 11th 1900, and New York was under two feet of snow and dead quite as a graveyard. Jack was trying to sleep using just someone's cast-off blanket and Crutchie's body heat beside him, the other boy twitching unconsciously with cramps in his bad leg and jerking Jack back into wakefulness every time. His mind drifted to Davey, as it often did - ten blocks and a blizzard away: it might as well have been miles. Wind moaned, tortured, against the ill-fitted window and Jack felt it brush over his skin and Davey, Davey, Davey was surely the only person who could keep him warm now. Jack wanted to brave the weather and escape to him, but - 

(Crutchie shivered beside Jack again, twisted ankle curling against Jack's leg. A hundred kids snored around him, blissfully unaware of the sudden lump in Jack's throat, his burning eyes.)

But he had responsibilities. He loved his boys more than anything, more than what was safe for for him, and he knew Davey loved him even more; the security of their relationship was what he'd been looking for, and what he needed so badly right that moment - Jack slipped into sleep with an uneasy murmur to himself, feeling like his head was a box getting increasingly tighter.

The next day he'd barely sold his last paper before he was heading to the Jacobs', where he knew Davey was studying - he wanted to be a politician, or something else extremely corrupt that he wanted to fix from the inside. Something that would bring him light years from boys with dirty faces and quick, inky hands. Jack wanted to be an artist, a philanthropist, a journalist, just anything that he wasn't right now.

Les came shooting out to greet him like the world's worst guard dog. "Merry Christmas, Jack!" he yelled, leaping into Jack's arms - finally ten and still light as a bird - and Jack had to laugh.

"Not yet, kid, but you too." His fingers were frozen and he fumbled to put Les down and shove them in his pockets. "Your smartmouth brother home?"

Jack got a far less enthusiastic welcome from Davey. "You look like hell," the other boy simply said, pushing his chair away from his desk to give him a hug, and Jack snorted.

"Hello to you too, sweetheart."

Davey's gorgeously dark eyes were concerned. "It's too cold for you to be sleeping in lodging."

"S'too cold for everyone to. I ain't special."

Davey pulled him closer by the waist. "Stay with me."

"Yeah, you gonna take the other fellas in too?"

Davey took a step back. "Why do you always have to make it so hard?" he asked, voice frustrated, and Jack felt a twinge of regret. He sat down on Davey's bed and the other boy joined him.

"I don't mean to." Jack sighed, flayed honest and raw. Davey's gaze was a familiar and well-worn microscope. "I got a lot of people to take care of. It's - difficult."

"And I got you." Davey's hand found his and rubbed his fingers to warm them up. He leaned his head against Jack's shoulder and said, "I worry about you."

Jack felt guilt stone-heavy in his stomach, in his heart. "I know."

"Because I love you. And you love everyone, and it's good, Jackie, that's good, until you start putting everyone first." Davey's voice was low and strong. "Stay with me. We can bring blankets, firewood, anything to the lodging house - just stay with me." His words trembled then. "I - I miss you." 

Jack let himself fold, curling into Davey's side - his shirt was thick cotton and smelled like rough sandlewood soap and long kisses and November 11th 1899. Love picked and pulled at his scabbing pride. "Consider me a tenant," he sighed, trying to hide his utter delight, and felt Davey smile into his hair.

"You got rent to pay for that," Davey said sternly, and what Jack looked up questioningly he was coaxed into a slow kiss that warmed him up from his toes. 

"Blankets to the boys, though," he murmured in between, and Davey nodded.

"Of course. They're family."

"Yeah, what am I?"

Davey stroked his hair, so gently, like Jack was something wild. "You're gonna be my husband, one day." he whispered. 

There was a pause; Jack felt wanting swell in his chest and blurted out, "That's illegal." before it completely overtook him, and then cursed himself for ruining it. But Davey seemed unaffected. 

"There's change coming. Once and for all." he stated, matter of factly, and Jack let himself believe, let himself see this shining future - "And Jack, I swear, I'll marry you."


End file.
